


One way to connect

by LiviKate



Series: Mischievous Friends [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Michele, First Time, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Novelty Condoms, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-13 00:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviKate/pseuds/LiviKate
Summary: Emil and Michele's first time together.Originally posted within Mischievous Friends, can be read as a stand alone, but casually refers to the drinking games played in the first several chapters of that fic.





	One way to connect

**Author's Note:**

> Title from All I Need is One, Watsky

He knew it was Leo’s special day, but he certainly felt like he was the birthday boy. The look on Michele’s face after he’d kissed him, that shocked, lips-slightly-parted stare, told Emil that he definitely felt the spark, too. It wasn’t just in his head. That spark, that vibration, that connection that strung between them when they first met rinkside.

At the time, Michele had been so concerned with his art and his sister that he didn’t have much space in his head for anything else. Emil had been saying that the twins needed to live their own lives for a while now, trying to take Michele out for coffee whenever they were together. When that didn’t work, he tried to invite Sara, too, but obviously Michele took that the wrong way. But at least it put Emil back on his radar.

And then Mila came along, sweeping Sara up with soft smiles, delicate hands and a whirlwind of red hair. It took Michele a while to adjust, and there was a certain amount of sexism and heteronormativity involved with the way that Michele excused a lot of the things Mila did with Sara in a way that he never would’ve for a man. Seeing that attitude towards his sister’s incredibly healthy but queer relationship made Emil worry that perhaps he was just imagining that spark, that there wasn’t a chance for him.

Sara promised him otherwise. She said that she was sure there was something there, that Michele was just conflicted, suffering through his own identity crisis and projecting it onto her. She promised him it would pass, that all Mickey needed was a little push.

Emil was giddy over the prospect of seeing the twins for Leo’s birthday. Sara and he had been Snapchatting, though Michele never replied to his messages. She said that she and Mila would make sure to wingwoman for him as much as possible. He laughed her off, saying that no meant no and that if Mickey really wasn’t into him he’d recover. Nevertheless, she persisted.

And then Leo, spreading the birthday magic, dared Michele to kiss him. Michele looked surprised, as if Emil hadn’t basically been daring him this whole time. He’d kissed him, and it was like time had stood still, the warm pressure of his lips exactly as Emil had imagined. Their lips smacked gently as he pulled away, the small sound of that contact breaking, snapping like a live wire. And his face. Mickey’s face told him that was definitely not all in his head. He’d felt it, too. And now he couldn’t ignore it.

Emil peeled out of his shirt, taking a drink as he did so, and he was sure he caught Michele staring. Another trip around the circle and it was Michele shrugging out of his sweater, tossing it behind him like the twisting of his abs wasn’t a thing of beauty, like Emil was supposed to watch him without drooling.

The Czech boy tried not to drink too much. He wasn’t one for mixed drinks, and all of Leo’s beer were shitty American domestics, so he was trying to take it easy, making a few exceptions for two or three shots of tequila with Seung-gil. But this game also had them taking sip after sip and his head was starting to get the slightest bit fuzzy. So when Mila dared him to lose his pants too, well, that seemed like a perfectly good idea.

Michele was definitely looking. Emil could tell because every time he looked at the Italian, his cheeks were a light red, and his hands were rubbing up and down the lengths of his thighs, like he really wanted to be rubbing something else. And Emil was more than happy to volunteer. The Czech boy was aware that he was four years younger, and perhaps not the most talented skater either, but he knew he looked good. He had a boyish charm, with his enthusiastic nature and floppy hair, but he was an internationally competitive athlete, and his body reflected that. He didn’t mind stripping down in front of an audience, so long as Michele was there, cheeks flushing, thighs twitching, watching him do it.

And then Sara, sweet, wonderful Sara, finally asking the important question. _“On a scale from one to you’re going to fuck Emil tonight, how gay are you?”_ Personally, Emil didn’t like to bottom much, but for Michele, he would happily make an exception. He was just so beautiful, thick-thighed and strong pecs, the kind of bulkier strength you didn’t see much in figure skating. Only Otabek Altin was more his type, physically, and Emil might’ve had a serious boner for him if Altin had been tall. But Emil was 6 foot, and he liked boys he could kiss without breaking his back. Michele was perfect, broad and thick and just an inch or two shorter than him.

Emil was pretty sure he could fit perfectly against the boy, if only he had the chance. And he was pretty sure Sara was trying to give it to him.

 _“What am I supposed to say?”_ Mickey asked, like Emil hadn’t been giving him the answer for years. Michele Crispino was definitely Emil’s first gay crush. And it had taken him years to be able to act on it. Years in which he’d learned a few tools of seduction.

“That you’ll let me kiss you again.” When Emil crawled across the floor towards him, he made sure to look as animal and masculine as possible, knowing his shoulders were flexing and rolling with each prowling step. He moved in close, close enough to smell the clean scent of his breath, not tainted by alcohol like most of the other people here.

He pressed his hand to his bare skin, and felt those sparks skittering under his palm. He pushed, just a little, sealing his palm to his skin, barely even a suggestion of motion. But Michele folded under his touch, lying back without a word, one hand coming up to cup his bare ribs as Emil settled over him.

“So can I?” he asked, settling his knees on either side of his legs and leaning over him on his elbows. “You seemed to like it the first time.”

“Yeah, you can kiss me,” Michele said, and though he still looked apprehensive, his eyes were looked on the blond’s lips.

And so he did, leaning in, closing his eyes at the last possible second, enjoying the way Michele’s eyelashes brushed his cheeks. But then their kips were touching again, and Emil sighed into the contact, tilting his head to better the angle, turning one arm in to cup the side of his head. The Italian met him with a flicker of tongue, his hand sliding further up around his bare back.

Encouraged, Emil dug deeper, twisting his tongue into his mouth, fingertips curling behind his ear. The older boy whimpered up into his mouth, both hands holding his ribs. He tilted his hips up, making needy little sounds in the back of his throat. Emil was sure he would go crazy if he kept hearing those sounds. Or if they ever stopped. The electric charge of their kiss was clouding his thoughts.

Michele kept making those tiny noises, especially when Emil started grinding his hips in slow, lazy circles. They sounded like they were catching in his throat, and Emil wanted to get a taste. He tilted the older boy’s chin up with a guiding thumb, ducking his head under to latch onto the tan skin there, darkening it with his mouth. He bit, sucking hard, tongue swirling in the shape of his name in Czech.

Michele moaned, this one breaking free from his throat and flowing out of his mouth. Emil shuddered, even more so when Michele dug short fingernails into his skin, just on the edge of breaking. Emil arched into them, welcoming the sharpness of the other boy, feeling that particular brand of fight and fury that marked Michele’s skating. He wanted to feel that passion against him. He wanted to see what he could do.

“Night, you two,” Sara said in a singsong, before flicking out the light of the room and disappearing down the stairs. It was enough of a distraction to separate their lips, the same gentle smack that marked the end of their first kiss echoing in the now empty room. Or, nearly empty. Chris was still passed out on the floor, and Seung-gil was lingering in the hallway, awkwardly slumped in front of the basement door.

“Do you,” Emil began, not sure where his question would end. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“No,” Michele said, gasped really. “No, stay right here.” He fisted his hand in the back of Emil’s long hair and pulled him back into a kiss that was wetter and filthier than the last. The Czech whined against him, pressing down with his hips again as he settled more fully against the other man, pressed from lips to hips, and gasping everywhere they met. Michele was hard underneath him, fingernails cutting into his back, grunting through his nose as he fucked up against him.

“Fuck, Mickey,” he groaned, cradling his head in his hands. Michele moaned again at the nickname, drawing his fingernails down his back, leaving trails of fire on his skin. If he did it hoping to elicit a reaction from the Czech, it worked. Fire racing down his spine, he snapped his hips hard against the man under him, hard enough to cause him to jolt along the carpet

“Dio mio,” Michele murmured, head tipped back, spine arching. Emil nuzzled in, fitting his mouth to the curve of his throat again, adding another hard bite to the marks on his skin. He pulled his knees underneath him, separating their groins. Michele protested with a wordless whine and hungry hands on his hips. Emil just shifted his weight, pulling his knees in and using them to knock aside Michele’s legs, making room between them.

He slid down, his mouth trailing along his throat until fitting his teeth around his collarbone, hands sliding all the way down until they wrapped around his denim covered thighs. He got a good grip and yanked, drawing his partner’s hips up the ramp of his knees to meet him, ass pressed snuggly against his groin. Michele looked like he was about to faint.

“Okay?” Emil asked, massaging the thick muscles of his thighs.

“Your hands are really big,” Michele said dazedly, seeing them spanning his thighs; long, thin fingers kneading into him.

“Your skin is really soft,” Emil complimented in turn, leaning down to press small kisses over his stomach, grinning when he twitched away, ticklish. He smiled up at Michele, but found him staring at him intently. In his eyes were arousal, fear, and overstimulation in equal measure. Arousal and overstimulation, yes, he was happy to cause. But fear? Definitely not.

“What do you want to do?” he asked quietly, suddenly very aware of the darkness of the room and the lateness of the hour. It seemed like the time for whispers. “We can do anything you want, including nothing.” Michele’s overly wide eyes watched him. They glimmering beautifully in the twilight, purple matching the night sky hovering just outside the window. “We can just keep kissing, I can make you come, we could have sex, or we could just go to bed. Or,” he said, swallowing. “You could just go to bed, if you didn’t want me to join you.”

“What do you want to do?” Michele asked in answer, seemingly studying him in the low light. Emil just shrugged, trying to dispel all the images in his head of Michele, naked and writhing underneath him.

“I _don’t_ want to scare you,” he answered honestly. But apparently, not honestly enough.

Michele’s hand shot up, burying in the hair at the back of his head and pulling harshly. He sat up, abs contracting beautiful to pull him up to seated in Emil’s lap, the other boy widening the splay of his thighs to accommodate his weight. His ass was smothering Emil’s cock, and his hand was wrenching his head back, and when his breath coasted over the shell of his ear, a strangled moan tried to make it out of his mouth.

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” he said, and there was a desperate, needy edge to his voice, one Emil responded well to. His hands slid from around his thighs to his ass, gripping harshly through the denim and yanking him harder against his cock, still pinned in his briefs.

“I want to fuck you,” he said. His voice was as earnest as ever, but dropped an octave and gritty with arousal. “I want to see you grinding down on my fingers, begging for my dick. I want you to rub off against my stomach and I want to kiss you when you come.”

Michele shuddered against him, hand spasming where it held his hair, yanking him into a kiss that was all cutting teeth and sharp tongue. The Italian wrapped his arms around his back, rocking his hips so that his cock ground against Emil’s abs, the denim and cold belt buckle causing his fair skin to redden and prickle.

“Yes, yeah, please,” Michele said, finally unwinding his hand from his hair to cup the sides of his neck. Emil’s hands left his ass and wrapped round his waist instead, holding him close as he lowered him back to the carpet.

“You know, that sounds really great,” someone slurred from behind them, and the two boys whipped their heads up, Michele quicker than Emil, catching his chin with his forehead. Emil sat up, rubbing the sore spot on his jaw and turned around to see Christophe, still slumped on the ground but now awake and watching. “I am never one to get in the way of a good dicking,” he said, though his words were unclear and shaped around a hiccup or two. “So here,” he threw his entire wallet at the pair, missing by a couple feet.

Emil stretched over Michele to grab it, and was twitched when he felt the Italian’s fingers on his side, carefully following the stretch and pull of his muscles as he twisted. “There’s enough condoms and lube in there for an orgy,” Chris assured them, stumbling over the words. Emil looked and found he was right. “Just, please. Please go somewhere else. You can have literally everything in my wallet if you do not fuck on this floor right in front of me. Not that you’re not beautiful boys,” he said, flailing an arm towards them in an approximation of a thumbs up. “But there is far too much sexual repression and earnest, puppy dog enthusiasm for me to really enjoy it. Neither of those are my kinks. And I have _a lot_ of kinks.” Michele’s cheeks were so red he was afraid he was going to burst a blood vessel.

“Chris, why don’t you just go back to sleep?” Emil suggested, reaching over to grab a pillow off the couch. He tossed it gently to the other man, but it just smacked him in the face, as he was already passed out again.

“That was so embarrassing,” Michele bemoaned, hands covering his face.

“He won’t remember,” Emil assured him. “And we got a free wallet out of it.”

“How are you always so positive?” Michele groused with his signature broody frown.

“Look at me,” Emil said, and his partner did, dragging his eyes up and down the expanse of his broad, pale, lightly furred body. “I’ve got two of the most beautiful thighs in the world wrapped around my waist, the most incredible eyes looking at me like I’m hot stuff, and the shape of my mouth imprinted on your neck. What could I possibly have to feel bad about?”

“Well, when you say it like that,” Michele said under his breath, not meeting his eye and blushing fiercely again. Emil just folded over him, turning his face up to meet his in another kiss that was slower and more languid than the ones that had come before.

“So,” he asked, pressing three, short kisses to his mouth. “Wanna go to bed?” Michele hesitated, and for one terrifying moment, Emil was worried that the spell had been broken and his chance had been lost. But then Michele looked at him with a glimmer of steel in his eyes again.

“I have a better idea,” he said, and pressed a firm kiss to Emil’s shocked smile, before scrambling to his feet and pulling the Czech up after him. Michele led him by the hand, out the backdoor, into the gazebo that just an hour before, Katsuki Yuuri had done some sick pole dancing in. Michele dropped his hand as soon as he stepped up under the dome, like he was embarrassed.

“Here?” Emil asked, a little amazed and a lot impressed.

“I’ve never had sex outside before,” Michele said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Emil knew there was a fine line between embarrassed Mickey and angry Mickey, so he ducked in quickly for a gentle kiss. “And I think, maybe, I want to try some new things,” he murmured against the Czech’s lips.

“It’s perfect. Your eyes remind me of stars anyway.” Michele blushed and he counted that as a victory. Emil wrapped his arms around him, running his hands up and down his bare back, glad it was a warm night as he was very aware he was in nothing but navy blue briefs. “Have you done this before?” he asked, glad they were both mostly sober.

Michele shook his head, beginning to look a little nervous again. Emil couldn’t have that, so he dipped his head again, pressing small, sucking kisses to the skin of his throat.

“That’s okay,” he promised. “What have you done?”

“I-I, with a girl,” Michele stuttered, hands gripping tight against the musculature of his partner’s back, holding him against his chest so he wouldn’t have to look at him when he spoke. “Once. I didn’t really like it, like I thought I was supposed to, so I never tried again.”

“Do you think maybe you just don’t like girls?” Emil asked, pressing his thigh between both of his legs, giving him something to rock against, cock well on it’s way to full in his jeans. Michele drug the flat of his palm down Emil’s flat chest and hard stomach, scratching through the blond hair.

“Yeah.” Emil felt him swallow under his mouth and heard the click of his throat. “That might be it.” Emil pulled away, smiling in that earnest way that he had.

“Great!” He pressed a hard kiss to Michele’s mouth, made a little pointless by the smile on his face, but no one could ever fault Emil for lacking enthusiasm. And it was with great enthusiasm that he dropped to his knees, mouth sliding over the dark trail of hair leading into Michele’s dark jeans. He pulled at his belt, accidently hitting himself in the face with the end in his eagerness, but he just laughed it off and kept tugging until Michele’s pants were around his ankles, and then he tugged and tugged until he fell, tumbling to the floor.

“Ow, what the shit?” he asked, brow furrowing, rubbing his hip where he’d landed. Emil just laughed, leaning up to kiss the red spot while he wrestled his feet free. “You’re ridiculous,” Michele complained.

“I know,” Emil grinned. “It’s part of my charm.” Michele rolled his eyes, but didn’t dispute his claim, cheeks pinkening cutely. He was still glaring resolutely at the patio furniture and pretending to be mad when Emil peeled his white briefs away from his cock and took him into his mouth. Michele made a sound like he’d been grievously injured, and Emil thought that perhaps it was a good idea to do this outside, if the boy was going to keep making sounds like that.

He curled his tongue, pulling out all the stops, selfishly hoping that if this was Michel’s first blowjob, that he would be well and truly ruined for everyone else. Emil was pretty experienced at sucking cock. About as experienced as a twenty-year-old queer professional could be. That is, a professional who is queer, not someone who is professionally queer. Although, what a job that would be.

“Dio mio,” Michele breathed, and Emil huffed a laugh around his cock. He took him in to the root, relieved that he wasn’t too big and could actually fit in his throat without any real trouble. The Italian gripped his hands tightly in his hair and Emil was so glad his coach hadn’t made him cut it yet.

“Emil,” he cautioned, pushing his head back. Emil popped off easily, smiling up at him while he stroked his slick shaft.

“Good?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Michele said, sounding incredibly light headed.

“Then it’s a good thing I made you lay down,” Emil said proudly, stroking his hands up and down the darkly furred lengths of his thighs, pulling his brief down and off his feet. “You know, I can make you come like this,” he offered. “We don’t have to do anything else.”

“No,” Michele said, far too seriously for someone whose dick was out and wet. He grabbed Emil’s cock boldly through his underwear and it was the Czech’s turn to wheeze embarrassingly. “I want it all.”

“Well,” Emil said, stuttering out a breathless laugh. “You’re lucky my dick isn’t that big, or you’d have trouble taking it all.”

“Are you ever serious? About anything?” Michele snapped, suddenly looking insecure again.

“Hey,” Emil said, letting the dorky grin slip off his face. “If you can’t laugh and have fun during sex, should you really be having it?” Michele looked at him consideringly.

“Whatever,” he said, though Emil thought maybe he got it. “Can you just kiss me?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Emil caught his lips in a kiss that began as part smile, as so many of his did, but quickly turned open-mouthed and hungry. Michele wiggled his shaking hand into his briefs. The second he got his hand around him, he stopped focusing on the kiss, and Emil was too busy gasping to maintain it.

“Oh wow,” he said, looking down between their bodies with wide eyes at the particular weight of holding another man’s cock in his hands. Emil just nodded his head in extreme agreement, pushing his cock through the channel of his fist in tiny, easy thrusts.

“So, dicks,” Emil said sounding strangled. “A fan?”

“Uh huh,” Michele said, watching intently as he swept his thumb over the head.

“Good,” he wheezed, legs shaking a little at the sensations of his partner’s curious strokes. “Yeah, just keep doing that,” he said, sitting up, careful not to dislodge his grip on his cock. He freed up his hands to grab Christophe’s wallet and pull out two packets of lube. He opened one and squeezed it over his fingers, sliding them together enough to warm it to body temperature in the balmy night air.

“Have you done this to yourself before?” Emil asked, sliding the back of his hand up the inside of his thigh.

“No,” Michele admitted, cheeks red but hand still sliding over his cock.

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Emil said, seriously. As seriously as he’d ever said anything. “If you don’t like it, we won’t do it. It’s supposed to feel good. If you don’t like it, I don’t want to do it.”

“Okay,” Michele nodded, eyes widening at seeing Emil so serious. Emil just nodded back, before leaning back over him, propped on one elbow, to kiss him.

The kiss was slow and drugging and meant to distract when he slid his fingers against his ass, slick and searching. They found his hole, circling gently and Michele sucked in a sharp breath.

“Does that feel okay?” Emil asked quietly against his lips, applying pressure in tight circles. Michele just exhaled shakily, spreading his legs even wider to give Emil a better angle. He slid a single finger in, kissing the gasp out of his mouth. He went slowly, allowing him to get used to the feeling of intrusion, spreading lube perfunctorily. Once Michele started kissing him back again, turning his hand over the head of his cock again, Emil slid in another, beginning to stretch him around the rim and scissor inside him. The Italian started to sweat, hips twitching both into the touch and away from the fingers in him.

“Are you okay?” Emil asked, pressing kisses to the side of his face until he titled his head up to direct his mouth to his throat.

“Yeah,” he said sounding wrecked already. “Yeah, it’s good.”

They were at three fingers when Emil finally found his prostate. He knew because Michele’s back arched so hard his head cracked against the wood of the gazebo floor. Emil chuckled around his collarbone, sliding his hand under his head to keep it from happening again as he circled over that spot again and again. Michele was groaning, interspersed with senseless entreatments. Emil, watched, in awe, as this controlled, collected boy broke apart in his arms.

But his hand was starting to cramp, and Michele’s hand on his dick had really just turned into a sporadically clenching and shuddering grip, and frankly it was getting a little too tight.

“Are you ready?” he asked, pulling his fingers free and sitting up on his knees again, wishing he’d gotten a condom out before pouring lube everywhere. He felt a little bad about smearing lube around Christophe’s wallet, but figured there had probably been much worse substances on it before. Nonetheless, he tried to wipe his hands off a little as he tugged his brief down enough to get them out of the way. He looked through the selection, noting some were novelty condoms. He flipped through with growing excitement, grinning as he found what he was looking for.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed, pulling out the condom with flourish, showing his partner with a cheesy grin.

“Seriously? A purple condom?” he asked, looking incredibly unimpressed for someone who was flushed all the way down to his chest and whose asscheeks were shiny with lube.

“It matches your eyes,” Emil shrugged. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Michele corrected.

“Yeah, maybe,” he conceded. “But that’s why it’s perfect. Purple for you, ridiculous for me. This condom is the perfect symbol of _us_ ,” he said, eyebrows dancing exaggeratedly, underplaying how much he truly meant what he was saying.

“Just get inside me,” Michele said, giving up and pretending that there wasn’t a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth.

Emil leaned down to press a kiss to his lips before opening the foil and rolling the condom over himself, tearing open the other packet of lube and squeezing it onto himself, stroking a couple times to spread it and heat it up, not wanting to shock his partner any more than a dick in the ass usually does.

“ _Dai, dai_ ,” Michele murmured, grabbing at him with greedy hands.

“It won’t be easiest on your back,” Emil advised, kissing a line up his stomach. Michele waxed his chest, and Emil liked rubbing his hairy cheek against the smoothness of his skin. “The wood would also be hard on your knees. I guess we could stand, you could lean against the railing.”

“I want to kiss you,” Michele said, blushing adorably, as if admitting he wanted to kiss him while they fucked was more intimate than having fingers in his asshole.

“Do you want to ride me?” Emil offered, and he saw how much Michele liked that idea, dick twitching against his stomach as his pupils dilated even further to swallow more of his purple irises.

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” Michele said, scrambling up and grabbing onto Emil’s strong, lean frame.

“You potty mouth, you just cursed,” Emil teased, feeling a little light headed as his cock slipped and slid against his partner’s ass as he climbed into his lap.

“See if you can make me do it again,” Mickey said with a challenging smirk, and Emil grinned at him, wide and cheeky, glad his partner was finding some confidence and fun.

“You’ll probably be the one making me scream and curse,” he said, mouthing along the underside of his jaw, rubbing his beard against the delicate skin of his throat. He lined up his dick under Michele’s hole, pressing the head against the pucker gently, choking on his breath when the boy sat down enough to take it inside of him.

“Oh,” Michele said lightly, breathlessly, hands tight on his partner’s shoulders.

“You can go slow,” he suggested, voice strangled by the tightness of his body around him. Michele nodded against him, head loose on his neck as he let his body slide down the length of his cock, in small, shuddering increments. Michele had one arm wrapped around the other skater’s shoulders for balance, and Emil gasped when his nails broke the skin, cock throbbing a little as it was swallowed.

When Michele’s thighs finally met Emil’s again, they were both dewed with sweat and breathing heavily into the narrow space between their chests. The Italian’s cock had flagged a little in the minutes it had been left neglected and the other boy wrapped a hand around him, stroking him gently.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, kissing the side of his face, where sweat was beading in his sideburn.

“Yeah,” he answered, clenching around him experimentally. “You feel really big.”

“Do you like it?” Emil asked, remember his first time, and making sure that if there was a point in which Michele decided he wanted to stop, that he knew he could.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little more sure as he tilted his hips, picking himself up and letting his weight pull him back down. Emil remembered that he wanted to be kissed, and he somewhat reluctantly took his gaze away from the stunningly gorgeous sight of Michele’s thick thighs and toned stomach clenching and working to fuck himself in his lap. He ran his hands over his thighs and waist instead, to not miss a thing, as he tipped his head up and nudged at his partner’s cheek until he turned his face into a kiss.

It was sweet, in a way that kisses can be when both parties are so summarily overwhelmed that all they can do is slot their lips together and hold on. Eventually, though, Michele’s movements picked up momentum, body loosening around the intrusion, and the kiss turned wider, and hungrier, and wetter, before breaking completely when the Italian’s bounces pulled him out of reach. Emil could hardly complain, the other skater rising to the flare of his cockhead before sinking back down, taking him to the base again He let his mouth smear over his partner’s sweaty chest as he moved, hands coming to grip his hips, sliding over his ass.

Michele started making little sounds as he moved, punched out little groans as he moved his hips, sometimes in circles, exploring all the ways he could move with a cock in him, and Emil had to kiss him, sloppy and distracted. Emil clung to him, hanging on for the ride, allowing him to do everything he wanted to him. He let himself be used, the privilege of being able to run his hands over his tan, gorgeous skin, feeling his strong, skater’s body flex around him, all making for an experience better than he’d ever dreamed.

When the Italian found his own prostate, tilting his hips in his lap, he released a shocked sort of cry. He leaned back, holding onto Emil by fingernails dug into either side of his neck, snapped his hips as hard as he could. His fiercely high jumps and stamina were coming in handy, fucking himself strongly even as he began to tire. Emil wrapped one arm around his waist to help him move, and the other around his cock, finding the tip dewy with precome and flushing a dark red, nearly purple, like his eyes. The thought made a stuttered laugh pop out of Emil’s throat.

Michele looked at him with fire in his eyes.

“How, are, you, still, laughing?” he huffed, punctuating each word with a slap of his hips against his thighs. “You must not be working hard enough,” he said, panting and with a devilish smirk, coming to a halt on his lap. Emil answered his smirk with one of his own, pressing them together in a sloppy kiss before lying back onto the floor, pulling his feet up to plant on the ground. He wrapped both, long fingered hands around his hips, holding them in place.

“Lean back against my knees,” he advised, before slowly rolling his hips, just once, in a long stroke. Michele’s head fell back, a strangled groan floating up from his throat. “There?” Emil asked, nudging that spot inside him again with his dick.

“Yeah, there,” Michele said, one hand pressed flat to the trail of hair marking the center of Emil’s stomach.

“Good,” he said, before slamming his hips up. That same startled cry came from his partner’s throat, but this time it didn’t break, sustained by the fast, punishing rhythm Emil fucked him with.

His head bounced loosely at his neck, loud and whining, fingernails scratching at any skin he could reach. Emil’s grip on his hips was slick with sweat, the skin of his hips stinging with the force of his thrusts, Michele’s muscular ass turning pink and sore.

“Fuck, fuck, _Dio,_ ” Michele said, leaning forward suddenly, both hands slapping down on Emil’s chest, fingers sliding through the hair there. Emil followed with his hips, maintaining the angle to keep hammering against that spot inside him. His mouth hung open, eyes closed, eyelashes like fallen leaves on his cheeks, brow beading with sweat. He was easily the most amazing thing Emil had ever seen. His cock was drooling precome, dribbling down his shaft, some droplets shaking free to land on Emil’s snow-pale skin, being milked by his cock from the inside.

“You’re so good,” Emil said, talkative even during sex. “Taking me in like that, your first time, you’re a natural.” Michele’s eyes shuttered open and met his with a gaze that was liquid heat. “Pretty Catholic boy, taking cock so well.” Michele whined, shivered around his cock.

“ _Basta, basta,”_ he said, and it sounded important, his forehead furrowing, eyes squeezed shut.

“English, Mickey, baby,” Emil urged, slowing his thrusts but keeping them just as hard and deep.

“Enough,” Michele breathed, hands slipping in sweat. “Stop.”

“Did I hurt you,” Emil said, immediately moving to pull out and sit up.

“No,” Michele hastened to say, keeping his ass tight against his partner’s hips, keeping him pressed to the floor with his weight and his two palms on his chest. He looked at him shyly, through his lashes, as shyly as you can be while sitting on another man’s cock. “You said you wanted to kiss me when I came. I didn’t want you to miss your chance.”

“Oh, my god, Mickey,” he breathed, skipping relief, heart rushing straight to overwhelming, all consuming lust. He grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulled him down, their chests pressed together, straining his neck up into the kiss. Emil snuck his other hand in between them to cover his cock, pressing it down against the skin of his abs, the wet head drawing through the hair there as he thrust into the grip. He kicked his hips up, felt Michele grunt against his lips. He opened his mouth so he could taste the next one.

Michele’s hands buried in his hair and his shoulder, clenching tightly as he was again overwhelmed with sensation. The scratches already lining his back stung as he pressed into the floor, using that grounding to fuck up hard into his partner. His cock slipped out once, producing another laugh from Emil which was quickly bitten out of his mouth, before they perfected the angle, bodies pushing together.

All the warning Emil got before Michele came was the painful popping of several follicles being ripped from his scalp, the hot scrape of nails breaking skin across his neck and shoulder and the aching clamp of Michele’s jaw snapping shut on his lip, before Michele was shooting across his stomach, come hot and thick on his skin. It make the pain worth it, Emil had an incredible kink for feeling come splatter over his skin.

It took mere moments of the tight clench of Michele ass around his cock and the slick smear of his come between them for Emil to come, a harsh exhale through his nose marking his release, hand spasming in it’s grip around the other man’s neck.

They slowed, fucking shakily through their orgasms, slowing to a lazy pulse that ended in a breathless kiss as their heads buzzed with endorphins. Emil’s throat made a thirsty little click when he tried to swallow. They lay there for several long minutes, catching their breath, Emil’s head thunking back against the wood floor as exhaustion loosened all his muscles. Michele stretched his legs out behind him, dislodging Emil’s shrinking cock from his ass, grimacing at the sensation. Emil tried to laugh, but it was just a breathless huff.

“Is that what it takes?” Michele asked after a comfortable silence. “To shut you up?” Emil just grinned, not saying a word as he pulled him down into another lazy kiss. His bottom lip was swollen, not just bruised from the kissing, but from the hard bite as well. He tasted copper under his tongue. When he shrugged his shoulders against the floor, he felt the wet slip of blood.

“You’re just as fierce as I imagined,” Emil murmured, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s waist in a loose hug.

“We should clean up,” Michele said, pulling away with a look of disgust as the slippery, cooling come covering their stomachs. Emil just smiled again, cheeks permanently shaped with contentment, as he rubbed a hand through it, liking the way it darkened the hair their, nearly to the color of the hair on Michele’s legs.

“I like being dirty with you,” he quipped and Michele predictably rolled his eyes, but extended his hand to help him up.

“Not that one,” he complained, dodging Emil’s comey hand and gesturing for the clean one. Emil laughed and complied, staggering to his feet, legs still a little weak. Emil was pleasantly surprised when Michele held his hand all the way through the house, into the guest room he’d put his stuff in. Michele dropped his jeans and underwear there, throwing Chris’ wallet onto the bed. He caught Emil around the waist before be collapsed onto the bed as well, keeping him on his feet.

“You are not getting in that bed until you’re clean,” he said. Finally getting a look at Emil’s back and shoulders, he sucked in a shocked breath, seeing the raised red lines, some broken skin and thin rivulets of blood. “Oh, God, Emil. Did I do that?” he asked, shocked and worried.

“A fearsome knight indeed,” Emil said, turning his head over his shoulder. He hummed into a kiss that Michele barely reciprocated. “You fuck the same way you skate,” he said, turning completely to run soothing hands along his partner’s tense, naked sides. “With ferocity and fire. Sharp, cutting,” he said, hard kisses marking each word. “You’re amazing.” Finally Michele relaxed, kissing back, letting their tongues tangle again.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling away and guiding him to the bathroom. Emil was worried that while he might’ve tapped into Mickey’s sweet, protective instincts, that he might’ve lost ground on his initiative to make sex fun for Michele, if he was now worried about what he did when he finally relaxed. They crossed the hall, wandering around naked in a house that wasn’t theirs, but feeling secure in the fact that it was well after four in the morning. No one else was still awake.

Michele pushed him towards the sink, turning around to turn the tap on in the shower. Emil just relaxed against the porcelain counter, propped on one hip, arms crossed easily. He slid his briefs down from where they were bunched under his balls, clinging to his sweaty skin. Kicking them aside, he looked into the mirror, admiring what he could see of the damage to his back. He thought he looked pretty good with battle scars like this. He whipped his head back around when Michele choked out a startled laugh.

His face split open into a grin when Michele continued to laugh, one hand covering his mouth ineffectually, the other pointing to where the bright purple condom still clung to Emil’s cock. Emil just grinned at him, wiggling his hips a little for Michele’s amusement. He chuckled, coming closer to kiss him, hands careful on his shoulders.

“You’re ridiculous,” Michele said, and it finally sounded like a good thing.


End file.
